


Everything in Threes

by orphan_account



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, I have literally never seen anything else so much as ACKNOWLEDGING the Nirneath, Sad, and the fact that Maeglin went to it with Turgon, anyway have this, except for one short fic once... I think?, not enough for these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Turgon asks a question, three times Maeglin does not tell the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything in Threes

**Author's Note:**

> Another tumblr request - one I really enjoyed doing, b/c they're two of my favorite characters.

“Did your mother ever give you a name?” Turgon asked.   
  
For all he could be terrifying when the situation required it, he was gentle now, giving Maeglin time to think about each answer. Both of them were still troubled, he assured him, from the events of a few days ago, and he did not need to answer questions he did not want to.  
  
Maeglin had answered all of the questions anyway, even when Turgon’s eyes widened slightly when he said he knew rudimentary Black Speech, or mentioned the trouble between him and Eol. But this one…  
  
“No,” he said. Maeglin was his name, and although he hated his father he felt the sting of Lomion even more; because his mother was gone, and he did not want to be reminded that he was a child of the twilight. Nan Elmoth, with its shadows and secrets, was behind him now, and Gondolin ahead. He would be Maeglin.   
  
~  
  
It seemed that all the love he lost in other places, he gained over again with Turgon; others whispered that it was unfair, he knew, for a elf so young to be sitting on the council, a Lord with his own house, a close confident of the king. That he gained those positions merely through the softness of Turgon’s heart, the regret for dead Aredhel.   
  
He doubted this was true; he was not very much like his mother. And Turgon, while he might be fierce in defense of his family, was no fool, and not one to be moved by a whim of the heart.   
  
Even Maeglin, however, was shocked at the request that came one day; in the throne-room packed with people, immediately after the declaration that Gondolin was to join in the Fifth Battle.   
  
“Your regent?” he asked carefully, not ready to believe his ears.   
  
“You are the youngest of the Lords of Gondolin, and have never seen battle - you may not be suited to accompany the army,” Turgon said. “But I trust you. I would that you would watch over Gondolin while I was away.”  
  
Conflicting emotions swelled in Maeglin’s heart; part of him resented the gentleness with which Turgon still treated him. He was not a frightened child anymore. But a dark, burning part of him flared with joy at this offer - to be King, if only for a brief time, to hush those who whispered cruelly about him, to have Idril, _Idril,_ if not his then at least in his care for a while, and maybe if he had time alone with her…  
  
But another instinct was strong within him, and he stepped forward and went down on bended knee.   
  
“My king,” he said, “I am honored beyond words, but I cannot accept.” _I do not trust myself, I do not want to hurt her and therefore hurt you, I cannot know…_ “I must plead that you allow me to join the force that you take.” _Because if I don’t I can hear the whispers already; coward, hiding behind Turgon’s favor, unwilling to protect Gondolin and no wonder, look at who his father was…_ “I swore to serve you when I came here, and I wish nothing more than to accompany you now.”  
  
 _Because I love you, my king, more of a father to me than Eol, and if you knew what was in my heart you would call my love for Idril wrong; and maybe it is, maybe on the battlefield without the sight of her it will fade. And I want her, but I want even more to deserve the trust you give…_  
  
For a long, painful moment of silence the decision hung in the balance; then Salgant hopefully raised his hand.   
  
“I’ll be regent,” he offered, and broke the tension completely. Even Turgon smiled a little before he spoke again, and his voice was warm when he did.  
  
“If you wish this so strongly, I will allow you to accompany me. I will be glad of your counsel. But tell me; are you sure?”  
  
He had seen very little of death, and what he had had been strange and violent; a battle was supposed to be full of it. And in leaving Gondolin he was leaving Idril, and he might never return.   
  
“Yes,” he said. “I’m sure.”  
  
~  
  
Maeglin was destroyed.   
  
Outwardly he was unmarked, but for the deepening shadows under his eyes and a slight tautness to the smile he wore more often; but inwardly he had given up trying to pick up the shattered pieces of his mind. Some nights he would awake drenched in sweat and terrified, convinced that he was in Nan Elmoth again; sometimes he would lose the thread of a conversation and become lost in black memories without warning. He could not work; the fire and black metal made his throat tighten with sickening fear.   
  
Morgoth’s eyes were on him always. He did not know how, but his body knew it, a shivering and vesciral fear that bypassed any kind of reason, honor or morals.   
  
He should have expected that Turgon would notice; but it took him by surprise when the elven king put a hand on his shoulder and drew him aside after a meeting of the council. Looking at Turgon with eyesight blurred from lack of sleep, he realized that he hadn’t so much as glanced at him for a long time, afraid to meet his gaze.   
  
Turgon looked tired as well, but not in the vicious way Maeglin’s energy had been depleted; simply… weary, as if something inevitable approached, and he had accepted it.   
  
“What ails you?” he asked, quiet and straight to the point.   
  
“Nothing,” Maeglin said lightly. Funny, how his speech had become far more light in sound while his tongue felt like it was sheathed in lead. “I am only a little tired, that is all.” There was nobody who would know that he hadn’t been working but his House, and they would never tell an outsider. More loyalty than he deserved.

Turgon said nothing further, but squeezed his shoulder gently, and Maeglin looked at him with a flicker of fear. Did Turgon realize the lie?

“I know you only do not answer questions,” Turgon said, “when you have a good reason to keep something to yourself. But be careful, Maeglin, and do not keep too many things to yourself.”

_He’s always known when I lie._

Maeglin nodded, and thought he might laugh at Turgon’s idiocy if he could; but somehow when he was alone it came out in choked and broken sobs, and he stood on the walls that evening and watched the setting sun touch the rocks at the bottom with blood-red light, and he did not move until the second watch noticed him there and ordered him down.


End file.
